


Long Live the Queen

by kanoitrace



Series: Tumblr Fic [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s08e22 Clip Show, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanoitrace/pseuds/kanoitrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon learned long ago that men have a nasty habit of underestimating her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live the Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from pharocomics: Angst + Abaddon + confined in a mental hospital + reflecting on her past, Henry, Cain, her intentions pertaining to Hell, etc. ANGST IT UP, WOMAN.
> 
> I didn't go the mental institute route, sorry. Just couldn't think of how to make that work. So this happens while the Winchesters are trying to cure her. I loved writing this once I finally figured out my angle. Abaddon's head space is equal parts terrifying and empowering, all the more frightening for how empowering it is. I'm really interested in exploring her character further in the future. I also developed an interesting headcanon while writing this.

She hopes they know they can't keep her here. But bless them, men do have a way of underestimating her.

Cain had been the first. He thought he could just leave her? After all they had been through together, all she had sacrificed for him. She'd let him think he was better! Stronger than her. Smarter. She'd reduced herself to something lesser just to be with him. And then he thought he could just up and disappear, marry that simpering waif, leaving  **her**  out in the cold? It had almost been cute. Almost.

But it was a riot when she got to see his face through that woman's eyes. That was a damn gem. He'd pleaded with her, and boy what a rush that was, to see him groveling. It didn't matter that it was to save some pathetic human. Oh no. It had been such a high, to see the might Cain down on his knees before Abaddon, begging for her to show mercy. He'd trained her, mentored her. He should have known better.

And when she broke the woman's neck? Every pop of bone was one of the binds tethering her to him giving way to the new regime. She was in charge now. He finally knew how strong she was.

She couldn't deny that she'd been disappointed when he didn't follow, however.

Then she met Henry. She could smell Cain's blood in him like stink on a skunk, and she knew then she wanted to take out her frustrations on his pretty skin.

And poor, innocent Josie. She'd been a fighter, Abaddon would give her that. She'd been much more of a challenge to possess than Colette, but that only made it all the more rewarding when she did. And of course the Men of Letters never suspected the woman in their midst to be their undoing. The sexist simpletons. Honestly? When would they learn they were never the superior sex?

And Josie screamed and fought the whole way through it. Tried to stop her from killing them all.  _They deserve it. They never appreciated you_ , Abaddon purred to her host. Josie only railed harder against her. She almost pities the men that don't know to appreciate their superior counterparts. They don't know what they're missing.

And then when she'd landed the final blow on Henry, Josie screamed so loudly that Abaddon felt nothing but the purest ecstasy.

Josie is silent now. Has been since those Winchester bugs put a bullet through her head. It almost is enough to make her sad. Josie had been such entertaining company.

But now she hears that Crowley, the simple salesman, is the king of Hell? What has she been missing? Surely he isn't the king of her Hell. He is certainly not the king of her.

So it's adorable that the Winchesters think they can keep her here. Adorable that they think they might have power over her, with their unimpressive machismo and parading around, guns blazing, penises swinging. Adorable that they think just because they've left her hands off the patchwork body that she is theirs to conquer.

Poor, simple creatures, with their phallic pride and bumbling brutishness. Men do always have a way of underestimating her.

Long live the Queen.


End file.
